


Another Year

by stardropdream



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anniversary, Belly Kink, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Morning Sex, Post-Canon, Season 8 Doesn't Exist, Wedding Rings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 21:59:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16731402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: Shiro and Keith enjoy a lazy morning together.





	Another Year

**Author's Note:**

> Fic request for married sheith kisses! So naturally it became married sheith kisses but also other stuff, too. Oops. Oh no. Such a tragedy.

Keith wakes slowly, distantly aware of the light coming in through the half-closed curtains. His shirt’s gotten hiked up his chest in his sleep, exposing his belly, and Shiro’s nuzzling there, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the line of his muscles, circling around his belly button. 

“Shiro,” he sighs in greeting. He blinks a few times to clear the sleep from his vision, focusing in on Shiro pressed there. 

Shiro looks up at him, his face still sleep-soft in the corners, his hair in his eyes. “Morning, baby.” 

Keith breathes out, his stomach hollowing out with his breath. Shiro’s hand runs over his hip and along his side and he presses a kiss to his solar plexus before lifting up to kiss him properly. Keith’s sure his breath must be sour but he returns the kiss anyway with a sweet little hum. 

He remembers a time, once, distantly now, when kissing Shiro felt like a miracle. The first few times Shiro ever kissed him (quiet, sweet, underneath the stars or against the hoverbikes they’d taken out to race), Keith kept waiting for it to end— kept waiting for it to be a dream or a mistake or something he’d never get enough of.

He still can’t get enough of Shiro now (never will get enough), but he’s learned to be slow, to not be so desperate when he cups Shiro’s face and keeps him close, brushes his mouth to his, licks into his mouth. It’s still a gift— everything about Shiro is always going to be a gift— but it’s one he can willingly accept when offered, one he knows will never be taken away from him. 

“Did you sleep alright?” Keith asks him, the hand on Shiro’s cheek warm and welcoming, his thumb swiping along his cheekbone. The early morning light reflects off the gold band on his finger and Shiro’s eyes close with a small smile as he leans into the touch. 

“Fine,” he reassures. “Actually had a good dream.” It’s been years and Shiro still sometimes gets the night terrors, but more and more, he’s sleeping peacefully and through the entire night. Occasionally, rarely, Keith wakes up before Shiro and gets to see his face softened in sleep. It happens rarely, early-riser as Shiro is. 

“Yeah?” Keith prompts.

“Had you in it,” Shiro says with a grin and a wink. Keith snorts and nudges at him, and hates that even that stupid joke makes him blush. 

Shiro’s big hand strokes over Keith’s stomach, slow and soothing. His wedding band is cool against Keith’s sleep-warm sleep. They both run hot at night, and the blankets are kicked down near the foot of the bed, bunched up. Shiro starts kissing his neck and over his shoulder, which is absolutely distracting. 

Keith turns back towards Shiro with a pleased breath, running his foot up Shiro’s calf and hooking around the back of his knee. “Hey,” he whispers, nosing at his jaw, “You’re in a mood.” 

“Maybe,” Shiro murmurs as he nibbles at Keith’s neck, pressing an open-mouthed kiss there. “Can you blame me? You know what day it is.”

“Hmmm,” Keith sighs, body pliant and warm beneath Shiro’s mouth and hands. He arches a little, pressing more to him, arms draping over his shoulders and tugging to motivate Shiro to press more fully against him. “Maybe,” he parrots, and then smiles as he presses a kiss to Shiro’s ear. “Maybe you should remind me.” 

It’s an easy goad, something Shiro could just as easily shrug off as accept, and Shiro laughs. He lets Keith tug him down against him and his body is smooth and languid against him, a comforting, heavy weight. 

Keith expects, when Shiro works his way down his chest again, keeping his shirt hiked up off his stomach, that he’ll eventually make his way to his cock. Instead, though, Shiro takes his time, lets his mouth and teeth drag across the lines of his muscles, nuzzling into Keith’s stomach, mouthing at his hips. Keith holds back what he’s heard Shiro describe as a _purr_ (something Keith still scoffs at) and instead threads his fingers through Shiro’s hair, keeping him close as Shiro presses slow, sweet kisses across his skin. 

He feels himself get hard but Shiro doesn’t focus on that, instead nuzzles at his stomach, works his way down to kiss along the vee of his hip, the arch of his thigh. His teeth are light, teasing whenever they bite at him, never enough to leave marks— and god, how Keith wants him to, almost begs him for it. He’s trembling by the time Shiro returns to his stomach, pressing his forehead there and just holding him, Keith’s legs draped over his shoulders, his hands cupping his hips.

“You get lost on your way?” Keith asks, laughing. He doesn’t particularly mind the detour, even shivers a little when Shiro presses a trail of kisses from just above his cock to his belly button, when he licks along his abs. Maybe that it’s more that he’s embarrassed at Shiro’s intense focus, as he always is whenever Shiro pays particular attention to any part of him. He takes deep breaths, his stomach swelling and hollowing out. Shiro stays there, smiling against his skin. 

“Just admiring the view,” Shiro says and bat his eyelashes up at Keith when he tips his face up to look at him, chin resting on his stomach, fingertips splayed along his thighs. 

“Oh yeah,” Keith scoffs, tugging playfully on Shiro’s hair. “Nothing better than the underside-of-the-chin view.” 

“You’re beautiful,” Shiro tells him, ever earnest and ever sincere. That’s always the worst part. Keith feels his cheeks turn red even as he smiles at him, laughing.

“You _sap_ ,” he accuses, feeling light and floaty. 

Shiro grins at him and nuzzles at his stomach, then obnoxiously ducks his head to blow a raspberry, mouth puckered against his stomach. Keith shrieks in surprise and shoves at him and— and can’t even be really embarrassed that it makes his cock twitch. 

“Ugh,” Keith says, flushed and shivering, pliant beneath Shiro’s hands.

Shiro’s expression softens as he smiles up at him. “Hey, sweetheart.” 

“Shiro,” Keith answers, his tone shifting, voice soft and reedy. He plays with his hair. 

In response, Shiro lifts up, nearly folds Keith in half as he takes Keith’s hands and pins them down over his head, his knees hooked over his shoulders dropping down to curl around his waist instead. They press down and Keith can feel the swell of Shiro’s cock pressing up against his. This time, he definitely purrs, flexing his hands in Shiro’s hold. He could break free easily, but that isn’t the point. He tips his chin up to look at him, finds Shiro smirking down at him in turn. 

Keith always like this part, too, the way he can feel their rings pressing into one another’s hands, the way Shiro never leaves him pinned so much that Keith can’t twine their fingers together, slide down and feel the comforting weight of his ring around Shiro’s finger. His. Forever. Nothing’s ever going to be quite so satisfying and quite so comforting as knowing that he’s always going to be there by Shiro’s side. 

“Tell me what you want, baby,” Shiro asks, eyes bright with mischief. “And ask nicely.”

Keith flexes his legs around Shiro’s hips, threatening a vice-like grip, and huffs when he angles his hips up, slides his cock up against Shiro’s. Shiro’s so big against him, so much bigger than Keith, and that will always make him shudder. He grins when Shiro full-body shivers just from that sweet taste of friction. 

“Make me,” he tells him and can’t help but grin when Shiro swoops in to kiss him. He bites at Shiro’s lip for his trouble. 

What follows is an easy, steady pace of Shiro’s hips, flexing and bowing against his body, that sweet slide of their cocks together, haphazard and unhurried. At least until Shiro reaches his hand between them and cradles their cocks, fisted easily in the large circle of Shiro’s Altean hand. Keith knows, later, they’ll bask there together in the afterglow and one of them will lick the other clean. Shiro will (try to) make breakfast and they’ll feed each other the results, playing footsie under the table. Shiro will have gotten him a gift, wrapped with immaculate corners even though they both know Keith will just rip it open as soon as he gets his hands on it. And only after will Keith bring out the gift he bought Shiro, too, wrapped in a cursory paper only because he knows Shiro likes it. They’ll spend the day together, swapping easy kisses and gossiping about their friends, or talking about the sunset the night before, the movies they haven’t seen, or avoiding the heaps of paperwork waiting for them, or whatever else they want to do, because they’re together and alive and the desert sun will warm them when they get cold from spending the day near naked together. And tonight, Keith knows Shiro will take his time with him again, will draw him over that edge as he always does, crying his name out against Keith’s neck as he comes inside him, Keith clinging to him like a barnacle as he gasps and keens for more. 

For now, though, this is easy— the shift of Shiro’s hand and their bodies, cocks sliding together. Keith twitches in Shiro’s hand and that always makes Shiro’s breath hitch. Their foreheads press together, looking at each other whenever they remember to open their eyes, and that’s easy, too. That’s always been simple. He could fall into Shiro’s eyes and never come out again and that would be just fine. 

“I love you,” Shiro whispers, once Keith’s close, because he’s a sap and he knows it makes Keith whine when he’s on the edge like this.

And Keith does whine, low and quiet and needy. He squeezes Shiro’s hands where they still pin him down, flexing, bowing his body up to press a light series of kisses to Shiro’s mouth, breathing his name and any number of endearments he can stomach to say in the moment. 

Keith remembers the first time he ever did this (kissing Shiro as easy as breathing, whispering all the things he’s always wanted to say but was too embarrassed to), the day of their wedding, Shiro sneaking into Keith’s room because he knew he’d need help with his tie and was too prideful to ask anyone for help. Shiro had leaned in and kissed him, short and sweet, with a murmured _I can’t believe I get to call you mine soon._ It’d been a simple little confession, Shiro blushing afterwards. It’d only meant that Keith had to hook his arms around Shiro and yank him in, gasping, _I’ve always been yours._ Embarrassing in hindsight, but he’d hidden his blush just by kissing Shiro again and again and again until it’d eventually evolved into something deeper, more heated, and he’d made a mess of Shiro’s perfectly composed outfit. He’d looked better disheveled anyway, in Keith’s opinion. 

In these moments now, a lazy morning like this, Keith knows that Shiro will only focus on him, put him first above himself. He can’t help his knowing smile as he looks up at Shiro and tugs one hand free to press his fingers into his mouth, licking and sucking in a way that can only be described as obscene. Shiro watches him with a pleased smile, which fades into a quick gasp when Keith pops his fingers from his mouth and drops them down, pressing to tease at Shiro’s ass, swiping once over his hole just to feel Shiro tense up in pleased surprise. 

That’s always enough— Shiro’s cock throbs against Keith’s cock and then he comes with a startled, delighted cry, pulsing in his hand. Keith keens and rocks his hips, taking only a couple more thrusts like that before he comes, too. 

Afterwards, he can only laugh at Shiro’s expression, something torn between embarrassed and undeniably pleased. 

“I love you, too,” Keith tells him, smug. 

“You’re a menace,” Shiro laughs, settling for pleased over embarrassment. 

Keith only laughs and hooks his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, tugs him in to kiss him. He takes it slow, takes his time. Their mouths slide together, sharing breath and lips, Keith’s teeth nibbling at the swell of Shiro’s bottom lip before sweeping his tongue inside, drinking him in. His hands cup his face and hold him close, plying Shiro with kiss after kiss, breath after breath. 

When they draw back, Shiro looks moon-eyed and starlight soft. His favorite expression by far. Keith touches his face, thumb brushing his bottom lip. 

He tells him, quiet, smiling, feeling overfull with his entire heart, thanking the universe again and again that he gets to have this man: “Happy anniversary, Shiro.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject) (including the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/commentbuilder)), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates responses, including:
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